Falling For Superman
by LeBlob
Summary: This is the story about how I fell for Superman. Or, at least, how I fell, and then met Superman.
1. Chapter 1

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in New York. The sky was a magnificent deep blue, with a few lazy white clouds slowly drifting across the horizon like meandering sheep. From my dramatically high vantage point, I could see the wide spectrum of assorted cars moving slowly about, as the generally do on a Sunday. They reminded me of the pet beetles I used to dig up from my backyard and keep in a jar as my pets. The distant wailing of police sirens, and their flashing lights, did very little to detract from the wonder of the day.

I noticed that even the birds seemed to be enjoying the gorgeous weather. They sang and swooped about in graceful arcs, back and forth between window ledges. Whether they ever did pause in curiosity to watch me, as I hurtled past them, my arms flailing about desperately and my legs kicking out uselessly, I'll never know.

Despite all this, I couldn't bring myself to care, even the slightest how amazing the sky looked, or how wonderful the birds sounded as they flittered to and fro. In fact, there was very little at this point in time that could improve my gloomy mood.

Except of course, having just been pushed off the very top of the Bank of New York, to be doing anything other than falling 50 meters per second through the air. That'd be really nice actually, and I have no doubt it would improve my day immeasurably. To say that I really wasn't looking forward to resembling some 3D impression of one of Picasso's famous pieces, on the pavement rushing up to meet me, was definitely understating how I felt at that particular point in time.

I stopped wailing like a banshee momentarily to draw in a huge lungful of air, before once again resuming my ungodly screaming.

I must have been a sight to see. Hundreds of people had gathered on the opposite side of the street to watch, their hands covering their faces in shock. I was never sure if that was because I was falling to my death, or because of how I looked as was falling to my death, and yes, before you ask, there is a difference.

There was none of that stereotypical damsel in distress stuff displayed by me that day. There were no billowing white dresses, or angelically lustrous golden trestles framing a dazzlingly pretty face, or musical squeal of fear. Oh no, I was having none of that. Like I said, my feet kicked out and my hands flapped up and down pointlessly outstretched at my sides, as if I could some how take off like a bird and get myself out of the messy situation, that was sure to follow. My hair whipped about my face, lashing into my eyes and mouth, so I was both temporarily blinded and choking on my own hair at the same time. I was genuinely surprised my screaming didn't crack the glass in the windows of the buildings near by.

So, there I was, about to die. Admittedly, doing my very darndest to ensure that everyone heard my loud protests about that, but falling to my death all the same.

And then, suddenly, my descent began to slow. All of my weight and the inertia of my fall was eased, as two large hands gripped onto me by the sleeves of my cotton cardigan. I gawked in shock.

I was staring into the most brilliant, electric blue eyes I had ever seen. In fact, I was staring into the most handsome face I'd ever seen this close before. Somehow, the man, Superman (if you hadn't already guessed), was facing me, his body perfectly horizontal, his large spandex clad frame completely blocking my view of the sky, and his brow furrowed in concentration.

I momentarily stopped screaming, left completely breathless and thankful when I realized what was happening. Hope unfurled in me like a glorious rose, its delicate petals spreading open to greet with joy the powerful sun above itself.

It would seem that all flowers, no matter how hopeful or joyful can be squashed.

Because, just like that, with a loudly audible ripping sound, the sleeves of my cardigan, that my rescuer was gripping so firmly, ripped, cleanly and completely away from the rest of the material.

Yep, you heard me, it ripped. Seam from seam, thread from thread, fibre from fibre. It tore right off. And what significance did that have, I hear you asking? Well, only the difference between my life and death, I tell you!

I screamed, in outrage and horror, as I watched Superman continue to hold the sleeves, his face one of complete surprise. He looked almost comical actually; the two pieces of material flapping from his clenched hands bizarrely in the wind.

I again fell towards the pavement. It was alarmingly close now, I must have been around 60 metres from the ground and narrowing.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

That was it. I was going to die. Any chance I had of surviving was completely thwarted, and now, all I could think of was my pet beetles. Not the pavement, not Superman, not my family, not my even my pet dog. Oh no, I thought about the pet beetles I used to have as a kid. Maybe it was actually a blessing I was going to die; one less nutter out in the world I suppose.

And then I felt my back hit two bars that felt like steel, and I knew I must have hit the pavement, or maybe a lamp post above the pavement.

I continued screaming, knowing that I was dead.

Except that I was screaming. I. Was. Screaming. I stopped screaming, and realized that I had been screaming, as ridiculous as that revelation may sound. Surely that could only mean one thing?

One after the other, I nervously opened my eyes, after all, I had already thought that I had escaped death once today, and that had been frustrated, who's to say it wouldn't happen again?

Superman's amazing blue eyes stared down intently into my unbelieving face. It was his two arms that had caught me and felt like two metal poles. He held me bridal style, one of my hands resting against the strange "S" symbol emblazoned on his chest, as we hovered 3 meters above the ground. He continued to look at me, his chest slowly rising up and down in a calming sort of way beneath my fingertips.

Except that, at that moment I felt anything but calm. I shouted out the first thing that came to my adrenalin fueled brain, my voice hoarse and cracking, my cheeks flushed bright red in confused agitation.

"WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU CATCH ME LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE?!"

I had lifted my neck up off his forearm, and now glared at him furiously, my mind somehow skittering about in every possible direction it could find.

Superman's eyebrows rose up in astonishment, and then, no, that wasn't possible! The largest, most mirth-filled smile spread across his features, and I began to feel his whole body shake up and down, as his head tilted back, and flashing me those stunning white teeth, he full heartedly laughed.

As in, this was no restrained wheeze of hidden humour, or smothered chuckle, this was an outright, ridiculously loud laugh. My scream, which had been loud enough to wake the dead, was nothing compared to this; it was absolutely outrageous.

At first my nose crinkled up in indignation, and I tripped over my own tongue, trying to think of something to scold him adequately with, and then the sides of my mouth quirked up in a wry smile, acknowledging that maybe my reaction could be considered, at least slightly amusing. But then I was laughing too, with just as much gusto as he, my head thrown back, and my lungs pinching in protest in their already worn state.

Superman's feet touched the ground gently, and he easily maneuvered me around, so that my feet touched the ground and I rested almost completely against that fantastic chest of his. I trembled uncontrollably, and I could barely hear the thundering applause from the onlooking crowd surrounding us, since my own rushing heartbeat blocked most of it out.

All at once I was laughing, crying and trembling uncontrollably. If it wasn't for the strong arms that pulled me tightly against my rescuer, I probably would have melted then and there into a pile of sniveling mess on the blessedly solid ground beneath me.

Words couldn't describe how glad was that I was not one of Picasso's paintings.

Even after Superman's laughing had subsided, he continued to hold me for a few moments, and I felt his chest rumble before I heard him quietly ask, his mouth close to my ear, whether or not I was all-right to stand by myself. I took in a ragged breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and nodded slowly.

He stepped back, and strangely I felt like I was falling again. I could only stare at him, probably looking like my dog did after it stuck it's head outside the window when I was driving... Why was I even thinking about that?

A genuine, and protective look of concern was written across his features, and I saw him swallow.

He smiled dryly, and said, loud enough so that I, and the crowd could hear, "Remind me to buy you a new cardigan sometime."

The people around me laughed in delight, and the air rustled my hair once again as he took off, to an uproar of cheers from the crowd.

I swallowed dryly, before feeling the loving arms of my sister engulf me.


	2. Fantastic Fries

"Hi and Welcome to Fantastic Fries, where the fries are always fresh. How can I help you?" I deadpanned.

The sweaty, obese man squinted through his green tinsel glasses frame. "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" He mumbled, pointing a pudgy red finger at me.

"No." I shot back, knowing what was coming anyway.

"You're that girl that was on camera the other day. You know, the one who fell of the building." He began to laugh, or wheeze animatedly, whichever one you prefer to think of it as.

"I thought you were gonna die. Then, I swear, I've never seen anything funnier, when Superman grabbed you, and your jacket ripped like that, I thought you were gonna die again." His whole body, which was currently covered in red spandex, began to jiggle up and down as he laughed.

How stupid of me not to realise that watching someone almost die, twice, was funny. I barely restrained a shudder.

Spandex should be outlawed.

Trying very hard to maneuver my register's screen so that it blocked out the main portion of his, need I remind you, spandex cover body, I sighed in resignation

It had been two weeks since, what I was now referring to as the "Cardigan Incident" had occurred. Apparently Superman hadn't been the only one to find the situation funny. Within hours, the story of how he had "heroically saved me" was plastered all of those annoyingly popular comedy talk shows.

Except that wasn't the worst part. Not only had they excluded the bit about me being used as a hostage in a bank robbery ,and being shoved off one of New York's highest skyscrapers. It turns out that kind of news is too mundane for the rest of the citizens of this city, they instead, decided only to include the bit about me falling, then not falling, and then falling again. Oh, and then Superman's wise crack about buying me a new cardigan. Which no one ever did, by the way.

The video had gone viral in a matter of days. So yeah, to say I was unimpressed with being known as "The girl that fell from that building" was understating things, by a long shot.

I gave the man a withering glare, which he seemed completely oblivious to. "Can I help you?"

Last customer, I thought desperately. He's the last customer I have to deal with.

Once his laughing had subsided, and he ACTUALLY wiped a tear from his eye, I was finally able to serve him his food.

I might have some kind of hidden superpower or something, because when I was done, I was out of that shop faster than humanly possible.

Dashing to my car through the unusually heavy downpour, I almost slipped and fell on the oil slicked, dimly lit carpark. It goes without saying then, that I was completely oblivious to the two enormously large men leaving the shadows of the building to follow me.

I hadn't even had the chance to jam my car keys into the door's lock, before one of the incredibly large goons put his hand on my shoulder. Startled I screamed out, and spun around to face the them.

I crossed my arms, entirely uncomfortable that I was alone with these two creeps in a carpark. Silently cursing that my car was parked underneath one of the many street lights that wasn't working because it would be impossible to see me from inside the brightly lit shop.

"Sorry fellas, I'm not working. Just finished my shift." I said firmly. By now I'd really had enough, and all I wanted to do was hide away at home.I glanced over them, taking in their white masks, and black spandex body suits.

Seriously, who ever thought it was a good idea to invent spandex? They should be put in prison for crimes against humanity.

By now you're probably thinking to yourself, "What is wrong with this girl? Why on earth hasn't she run away screaming her lungs out. We all know she can use them!"

Well, you see, today was Halloween.

Unfortunately, I'd been seeing guys like these two walk in and out of the store all day, so even though, normally I would've high tailed it outta there, today I just stood as far away from them as a I possibly could.

Neither of them said anything. Then, all of a sudden, they both made the mistake of lunging for me. What happened next was all a bit of a blur.

One of them tried to grab my arm, and the other went for my hair. What they wound up getting was a fist to they eye and a kick to the crotch. At this point I let out one of my now famous screams, and as one of them realed back, and the other bent over in pain, they both visibly flinched.

Spinning around I made to run away, but the guy I punched in the eye had made a quick recovery. I'm not even kidding when I say he bent down and picked me up while I was in mid run.

Then I was kicking, punching, biting and scratching any part of the guy I could possibly reach. Which was a lot, judging by his howl of pain when my teeth sank into his arm. Gross, I know. At least you didn't have to do it. Be thankful.

Then the thug dropped me, all of his 7 feet, and I somehow managed to land on my ankle. I yelped in pain and was momentarily unable to move. Taking advantage of this, my attacker turned around and kicked me in the ribs. Hard.

At this point I began seeing stars, and heard the other guy, who I'd kneed in the crotch bark out, "Stop, we were told not to damage her."

Then I was being lifted up again, but not before I managed to grasp the handle of the nearest car door, and clung to it with all my, albeit pathetic, strength.

There are moments in life you'll always remember. At 12 at night, on Halloween in Metropolis, two criminals using your body to play tug-o-war with the handle of a car is one of them. They each had one of my legs in their hands, so that my body was lifted up above the ground, and my fingers were turning white with the strain.

Somehow, and I have no idea how, but everything I do seems to get weird, real fast.

All of a sudden the car's handle broke, and with a loud snap, the three of us flew backwards. I hit the ground in a mess, knocking the air out of me, and writhing in pain. I was pretty sure one of my ribs was broken, anything that hurt that much had to be.

While I was laying dazed in a puddle, staring up at the one light in the carpark that worked, and struggling to regain my breath, I heard an oddly familiar voice.

"Are these two men bothering you ma'am?" He practically growled. Which was odd, since he's Superman and all. I kinda thought it was impossible to get him angry. Apparently I was wrong.

I sat up, my hair doing its very best impression of roadkill. Still holding the door handle, I gestured lucidly to both of them. Gasping for breath, I managed to lamely wobble my head, that yes, they were bothering me. A lot actually, but I couldn't say that, I sort of opened and closed my mouth uselessly like a codfish.

In a blur of blue and red Superman ran, or flew, I couldn't tell, and within the blink of an eye, he'd picked up thug one and thug two, and was flying away with them into the night sky. Still sitting down, I squinted up into the sky, trying to see through the sheaths of Autumn rain.

Minutes passed, and I eventually got my breath back. Still I waited, expecting Superman to suddenly appear from the sky again.

After another good few minutes passed, I swallowed and double blinked. I felt a wave of disappointment hit me. For whatever reason, Superman wasn't coming back.

Until that moment I hadn't realised that I'd still been waiting for him. I was completely drenched, sitting in the gutter of my work's car park and alone in the rain. I wanted to cry. In fact, I already was.

My chest felt like someone was stabbing me every time I breathed in, or out, for that matter. Slowly I began to pick myself up off the ground, beginning to feel the pain from my ankle now as well.

My breathing hitched, as I bitterly thought about Superman. He hadn't even recognised me, let alone come back to see if I was all right. Which, you know, I wasn't.

Just as I was thinking these things, I heard the soft splash of Superman landing behind me. I swiveled around, a fleeting smile crossing my face. At least now I wasn't alone in the carpark.

Superman looked at me gravely, seemingly assessing me from my head to my foot. It was only later that I realise, that it was in fact, exactly what he was doing. His lips tightened into a solid line, and for a few second neither of us spoke.

Meanwhile I took the opportunity to look him over. Even though it was bucketing rain, and he should have been drenched, he looked no different than the last time I'd seen him. His hair was curled just so, and his blue eyes seemed to sparkle under the neon light. If anything his "S" symbol seemed to stand out more, as the rain made it glisten.

I blinked and the next thing I knew Superman had swooped forwards, wrapped me in his solid, muscly arms, and I was flying in the air at speeds my car would struggle to reach even when I first bought it.

Remember how I said that everything in my life gets weird? Yeah, well, this just goes to prove it.

Most people, after a traumatic experience like mine, would probably take this opportunity to snuggle down into his comforting embrace, and discreetly lie their heads against his wonderfully muscled chest. But I was not most people.

I freaked, as in, I had a full blown panic attack. Being picked up, and flown at superfast speeds in the middle of the night, by a stranger, even if that stranger was Superman, was the last thing I wanted. My hands flew about wildly, my legs thrashed about, and I began chanting, in a voice that was so hoarse and husky that it didn't even sound like mine, "PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!"

He landed as gracefully as any man that can fly could, after receiving several uncoordinated slaps to the face. I practically melted to the ground in sheer relief.

He knelt down, so that we were at eye level. "What's wrong?" he asked confused.

"I almost just got abducted, I've probably broken something, and I'm TERRIFIED of heights, and you're asking me what's wrong? How about you ask next time you go to swoop someone off their feet." I responded in a dangerously hysterical voice.

He rocked back on his heels, and blinked. Apparently that was the first time anyone had been annoyed at him for trying to fly them somewhere. I vaguely wondered why that was.

Somewhat more calm now, I asked "Where's the nearest hospital from here?" while frowning. From what I could tell we appeared to near the heart of Metropolis, judging by the number of gawking people nearby.

"Not far." He replied, slowly standing up, and extending out his hand to me. Gratefully I took it, wincing as I put weight back on my ankle.

"As in, a short tram tram trip from here?" I asked, noticing that we were conveniently near a tram stop.

He looked at me incredulously, "You have a fractured rib cage, and you mean to take public transport to the hospital?" I swear his raised eyebrow seemed to disappear into his hairline.

I looked at him skeptically, "It beats having to walk, so, yeah." He seemed even more surprised at my answer.

"Why?" He queried, "I could just fly you….." He trailed off. Probably because of the look I was giving him. There was no way, no way, that anyone else was going to pick me up today, and whisk me away.

Superman slowly nodded, as if somehow guessing my thoughts, which maybe he could, I wasn't really sure. I sure hoped he couldn't. Or maybe he just didn't want to get slapped in the face again when I began to freak out.

It wasn't long before Superman and I were boarding the nearest tram that would take us to the local hospital. It was possibly the most pleasant tram ride I'd ever had.

Despite the fact that there were no seats on this carriage, or that it was over packed, there was a about a 3 foot circle of space between me and any of the other passengers. Except for Superman that is, who stood calmly and regally behind me. I lost count of the number of camera noises I heard, as people stood with mouths open, and phones out

Every now and then the tram would turn sharply, or jolt about, and I my back would brush against Superman's chest. I wasn't sure if he moved forwards to brace me, or if he was standing that close the whole time, but somehow, he always managed to take most of the movement's shock.

The oddest tram ride I'd ever had finally ended, as Superman said, "This is our stop." Even though I was feeling miserable, and thought I was going to vomit if I didn't get some painkillers into my system, I almost laughed. That was never something I'd ever thought I'd hear.

He gently placed his large manly hands on the small of my back, and steered me towards the door. My heart gave a little flutter, which was ridiculous, since, well, it was just…. weird.

Stepping back from me, he said softly, "Wait here." His tall torso was shed in the brilliant light of the nearest buildings, and I watched as he walked away to go and fetch me some help.

I began to muse that maybe, just maybe, whoever invented spandex wasn't so insane after all. Maybe they should be given a medal.


End file.
